Prologue

Part 1 prologue

Tranvale Castle, 2005

The room was dark and silent as Prince Kenneth walked through the bathroom adjoining his room to that of his twin sister’s. As he stood in the doorway, he surveyed the room from the vanity filled with her make-up to her canopy bed with pink curtains, which were never drawn.

“Ahh…”, Ken sighed, “Sari, where on earth are you?”. He said that out loud as he recalled his mother’s reaction when she found out that her beloved daughter was missing.

When Ken went down to the drawing room that was found in an older part of the ancient castle that morning, he found his mother already there. The room was filled with turn-of-the-century furniture. His mother who was circling the whole room, about 5x5 meters, almost hit a hundred year-old chair. Her pacing only meant one thing: something was wrong.

“Mother, what is wrong?”, Ken asked as he entered the room.

“Ken, where is Sari? It’s almost ten and she is still in bed?”, asked his mother in a panicked voice.

Queen Myrrh is like a roasted marshmallow, coarse and bitter in the outside yet soft and sweet in the inside. Ken and Sari often used that comparison, when in public their mother would be the queen, ruler of all, serious and, to be frank, frightening, but at home, when they were alone, she would be soft, sweet and motherly.

The queen was also a just person. Why, whenever matters needed resolving one would only have to seek the queen’s counsel. Though she is fair and kind, she has the figure of a hippopotamus, eyes the color of steel and hair with the most putrid shade of brown.

Thankfully her children took after their father, King Cole who had eyes the color of the sky and straw colored hair. The king was every bit as just as the queen, but one summer afternoon, the king vanished as he was out for a cruise on his yacht.

That happened before the twins even turned five, leaving the burdens of being the queen and a mother on Myrrh’s shoulders. It was not easy for her to be a just monarch governing a whole country, a strict lady ruling her home and a loving mother raising her children.

“Mother”, Ken said as he forced her to stop pacing, “I thought Sari was already here. Her bed was empty when I checked her room”

“But she has not come down yet. I was the first one in. the maid said so”

“That cannot be!”, Ken exclaimed as he shook his head “Sure I didn’t hear the shower but her bed was empty.”

“Did you find anything amiss in her room?”

“Let me think…”, Ken recalled his entry to his sister’s room barely ten minutes ago. “Her vanity was normal, closet doors were closed. As far I as saw the place was spic and span.”

“ Then where could she be? Upstairs, downstairs, the kitchen, the roof--”

Ken who was not listening to his mother interrupted her, “Her bed!!!”

“What about her bed, darling?”, his mother asked, “Didn’t you say it was empty? And normally empty means that she’s not there.”

“Mother this is not a time for your sarcasm. It’s even worse than your pacing.”, Ken said as he forced his mother to sit down in a plush armchair, “Her bed wasn’t made. She always makes it even when she ‘s sick.” He explained as Myrrh’s left eyebrow raised.

“ Oh my”, his mother repeated as she got up and started pacing again.

“What do we do?”

“ Yes, a plan.” , The monarch in her started to take over. “Do you have one?”

“ In fact, yes.”, he said, “ We tell people that she’s sick and can’t attend to her duties until she is well.”

“ Even though that might cause major concern for your sister,”, Myrrh said, “ it can be a good excuse for her absence. We have to act as if nothing was wrong.”

“ Of course we will. We have to.”, That ended their conversation.

Ken strode in and lit the lamps. He took out two puppets and mimicked a person feeding another person. He was very good at arts, he always was. If he were given a choice between art and politics, he would choose art.

He was the creative twin or so they say. Of course what they really meant was that he was the weaker twin. Humiliating as it was, Ken didn’t mind at all, it was his mother who was ashamed.

“No prince should ever consider a job less than what his station considers acceptable.”, was what his mother would always say whenever the topic of his hobby as she called it would pop up.

Even though his mother couldn’t understand his passion or arts, Sari did. Whenever his hobby would be criticized she would change the topic so that he won’t feel bad.

Ken laid the puppets on the bed and turned off the lights. “Sari wherever you are, please be safe.”, he said as he took one last look of her room. He locked the door to Sari’s room and went to his. He set up his easel and started painting Sari’s image, all that time praying to God that she was safe and would soon return to them.